Thomas must have set me up. He’s the only one who knew I snuck in there.
“I just noticed my diamond necklace is missing,” Dr. Shields says lightly. “Luckily, I thought to check the security camera I recently installed. I know how desperate you are for money, Jessica, but I never thought you’d resort to this.”
I didn’t take anything, but if she turns in that recording, I’ll be arrested. No one will ever believe Thomas, her husband, gave me the key. Dr. Shields could say I watched her enter the alarm code when I was over there. She’ll have the perfect cover story.
I can’t afford a lawyer, and what good would it do? She’ll outmaneuver me at every turn.
I was wrong; things could get worse for me. Much worse.
I know what I need to say to appease her.
I close my eyes. “What do you want me to do?” I ask hoarsely.
“Just show up for dinner at six,” she says. “No need to bring anything. See you then.”
I spin around, staring at the empty streets.
I’m hyperventilating.
If I’m arrested, it will not only destroy my life but my family’s, too.
A gust of wind forces the security door to swing open a few inches. I jerk back instinctively.
Dr. Shields isn’t here, I tell myself. She knows I’ll show up at her house for dinner.
Still, I grab Leo and burst through the entryway before sprinting up the stairs.
I have my keys out long before I reach my floor. I can see my hallway is clear, but I don’t stop running until I reach my apartment.
Once I’m inside, I search my entire studio before I put Leo down.
Then I collapse onto my bed, gasping.
It’s a little after eleven o’clock. I have seven hours to figure out how to save myself.
But I have to acknowledge I might not be able to.
I close my eyes and imagine the faces of my parents and Becky, conjuring memories I’ve amassed through the years: I see my mother rushing into my elementary school nurse’s office in her good blue suit, the one she wore to her secretarial job, because the nurse had called to report I was running a fever. I see my father standing in the backyard, bending his arm as he teaches me how to throw a football with a perfect spiral. I see Becky tickling the bottoms of my feet as we lay head to toe on opposite ends of the couch.
I hold on to the visions of the only people I love in this world until my breathing has finally slowed. By then, I know what I have to do.
I stand up and reach for my cell phone. My family called earlier this morning and left a message wishing me a Merry Christmas. I couldn’t answer; I knew they’d hear the strain in my voice.
But now I can’t put off revealing any longer what I’ve kept hidden for fifteen years. I might not ever get another chance to tell my parents what they deserve to know.
I dial my mother with trembling fingers.
She answers immediately: “Honey! Merry Christmas!”
My throat is so tight it’s hard to speak. There’s no easy way to do this—I have to plunge right in. “Can you put Dad on, too? But not Becky. I need to talk to you two alone.”
I’m gripping the phone so hard my fingers hurt.
“Hold on, sweetie, he’s right here.” I can tell from my mother’s tone that she knows something is very wrong.
Whenever I’d imagined this conversation before, I could never get past the opening sentence: I have to tell you the truth about what happened to Becky.
Now I hear my dad’s deep, gravelly voice: “Jessie? Mom and I are both on.” And I can’t even say that one line.
My throat is so tight; it’s like the nightmare where you can’t make a single sound. I’m so dizzy I feel like I’m going to pass out.
“Jess? What is it?”
The fear in my mom’s voice finally releases my words.
“I wasn’t there when Becky fell. I left her alone in the house,” I choke out. “I locked her in the bedroom.”
There’s utter silence.
It feels as if I am being broken apart; as if my secret has kept me glued together all these years and now it’s shattering.
I wonder if they are picturing Becky’s limp body being loaded onto the ambulance stretcher, like I am.
“I’m sorry,” I say through sobs that wrack my body. “I shouldn’t—”
“Jessie,” my father says firmly. “No. It was my fault.”
My head jerks up in surprise. His words don’t make sense; he must have misunderstood me.
But he continues: “That window screen, it had been broken for months. I kept meaning to replace it. If I had, Becky wouldn’t have been able to unlock it.”
I collapse onto my bed, my head swimming. Everything has been turned upside down.
My father blamed himself, too?
“But I was supposed to watch her!” I cry out. You trusted me!”
“Oh, Jess,” my mother says. Her voice sounds oddly broken. “It was too much to leave you alone with Becky all summer. I should have found another way.”
I expected their anger, or worse. Never did I imagine my parents were carrying around as much pain and guilt as me.
My mom continues: “Honey, it wasn’t any one thing that caused Becky to get hurt. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. It was just a terrible accident.”
I listen to her gentle words wash over me. I wish more than anything I could be there to squeeze in between them, like I did when I was a little girl, so they could envelop me in a hug. I feel closer to my parents than I have in years.
And yet there’s an emptiness inside of me in the space that once held my secret.
I may have found my family only in time to lose them again.
“I should have told you sooner,” I say. My cheeks are damp, but my tears are coming more slowly now.
“I wish you had, Jessie girl,” my dad says.
Then I hear the low rumble of Leo’s growl. He’s staring at my door.
I’m on my feet again instantly, my senses on high alert. Even after I hear the familiar voices of the couple who live at the end of the hall, my posture remains rigid.
My mother is still talking about the need to forgive ourselves. I can picture my dad nodding and rubbing her back. There’s so much more to say to them. And yet no matter how desperately I want to, I can’t stay on the phone even a minute longer. Dr. Shields is expecting me soon, and I still don’t know how I’m going to protect myself.
I ease off the phone after telling them again that I love them.
“Can you give Becky a big hug from me?” I say. “I promise I’ll call you guys later.” I hesitate before I press Call, hoping it’s the truth.
After I hang up, I want to curl up under the covers and absorb everything that has just happened. So much of my life has been constructed around a fallacy; my own assumptions imprisoned me.
But I can’t dwell on any of that now.
Instead, I brew a cup of strong coffee and start to pace, forcing myself to focus. Maybe I should leave the city tonight. There must be a rental car place that’s open on Christmas; I could start driving to Florida.
Or I could stay and try to fight Dr. Shields.
Those are the only two choices I can see.
I try to think like Dr. Shields would: logically and methodically.
Step one: I need to see the recording, because how do I even know it exists? And if it does, I’m not sure I believe that I’m identifiable on it. I wore dark clothing, and I didn’t turn on any lights in the town house.